Compulsion
by Uozumi
Summary: Now a demon of the night, he kills now even though he isn't bound to any curse. Set postwar. No HBP spoilers. No slash. PG15.


**Title** _Compulsion_  
**Author** Uozumi  
**Genre** Challenge/Dark/Detective/Drama/Mystery/Suspense  
**Disclaimer** This is an act of fandom. I do not claim ownership over these characters. I am not making any profit from this endeavour.  
**Rating** PG-15  
**Summary** Now a demon of the night, he kills now even though he isn't bound to any curse. Set post-war. No HBP spoilers.  
**Notes** Challenge for **darkones**

Also do not expect any spoilers for _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ since I am a poor soul who probably won't see the book until after this challenge is over and done with and the plot bunny bit me very hard on the thirteenth of July.  
**Requirements** Your challenge this month is to write an ode to the Forbidden, Restricted and Desired; bearing in mind that all decisions and actions carry with them the promise of consequence and retribution.

**Some Suggestions:**  
- Wizard versus the tangible (Nature, Magic, Setting, etc.)  
- Wizard versus Wizard  
- Wizard versus himself

This month, there are no restrictions on what you must incorporate – though consideration will be given to those who situate their characters in a struggle that addresses or touches upon the Dark Arts and/or the War.

**_Compulsion_**

A man in his twenties stood on the cobblestone street, his blue eyes taking in his surroundings. Tall and average, he has lost the baby fat that so marked him growing up and now he has a woman, something people told him he would never have.

Lighting a cigarette, he exhaled, watching the smoke hang stagnate in the misty air, the stones soaked, and trees dripping. The clouds moved across the sky pockets of stars watching him, some twinkling with shame and others with pity. The man doesn't look at them, thankful for a new moon.

His ears pricked at a wailing noise which soon grew louder and then he snuffed out his cigarette before taking out his wand and apparating from the spot just as the muggle authorities appeared.

"We don't like saying it, but we think this might be a wizard," said a sandy-haired officer, running a hand nervously over his hair.

"It's okay. I know you're not prejudiced," a man replied from where he's kneeling on the cobblestone street. His red hair was cut short and neat, his blue eyes clouding a moment before he rose from the ground. "I was just about to say the same thing."

"We haven't had wizard activity in five years," a dark-haired officer remarked from behind them. "Not since we got the last of those…what did you call them? Because I really doubt Sith is the word I'm looking for."

"We call them Death Eaters," the auror replied quietly. "I don't think this is one of them." He stared at the body in front of them and shook his head. "It can't be one of them. I've seen their work and this isn't like it at all." He closed his eyes and chased memories away.

"There are two more bodies over here," a woman's voice called out. "Ron, you need to look at them."

The redhead looked over at the woman with short dark hair and dark eyes that caught the street lamp. He sighed inwardly and walked over to where she stood by a decorative tree, looking down at something in the garden around the bottom of it. "What the bloody – "

"It looks like something out of an anime," one of the muggle officers whistled low.

"Davidson, how many times must I tell you not to menti…" the lead of the muggle unit's voice trailed as his eyes widened. "What the – "

"It looks shaman in nature," an Irish auror murmured in his thick accent, "although I've never known a shaman who did these types of things."

The officer who brought up the anime reference bit his tongue. After a moment, he offered weakly, "Are there any spells like this? I don't know much about your world." He didn't look much more than nineteen or maybe twenty. The first time he saw the bodies in this case he would grow very pale, but as more began to accumulate, the young officer began to steel himself against them. These, however, were the worst yet.

"Who could do this?" The lead officer looked pointedly at Ron. "I thought that all the Death Eaters were gone now."

Ron shook his head and sighed. "I don't know, but we'll take pictures and look into it."

"You did it again last night didn't you?"

The man looked over his shoulder at the woman standing by the doorway towards their bedroom in the flat. Her face was pale from sleeping and her dark hair was mussed. He adjusted his work robe and shrugged. "Yes, I did."

She sighed wearily and then shook her head. "I won't say what I'm thinking. I don't understand why you feel the need to do this at all. I killed once and it haunts me."

He took gloves out of his pockets and then put them back in so that his pockets lay flatter. "I know." He didn't look at her. "I'm sorry. This is something I have to do."

"You don't have to." She frowned and then sighed. "Neville – "

He put a finger to her lips and then kissed her gently. "I'll come home for supper. I have to go to work now." He stepped away and then turned towards the door. Turning to look over his shoulder at her, he opened his mouth and then closed it. "I'll see you at five."

The bell rung and Neville Longbottom looked up from the catalogue on the glass counter. A woman with long, thin red hair entered the Herbology store and smiled brightly. "How has your day been?" She walked up to the counter.

"I've been doing well. Today has been slow though." Neville set the catalogue aside. "What about yours? How is the hospital doing, Gin?"

Ginny Weasley sighed, handing him a list of things that the hospital needed for medicinal potions. "Did you hear?" Her brown eyes shone with worry. "They said that the killer might be a wizard."

Neville's fingers flexed a moment around the list and then he turned away, running a finger along the names of boxes on the shelves as he spoke. "It doesn't surprise me. I doubt a muggle could do what they showed in the papers."

Ginny nodded and shifted her weight. "I thought that when the war was over, all we would have to do is worry about muggle wars and such again." The twenty-something sighed. "Who do you think it is, if it's a wizard?"

Neville pulled several boxes from the shelves and filled bags with the contents in the amounts specified by the paper. "I don't know. I try not to think about it really." He turned back to her. "I have to go in the back to get the rest."

Ginny nodded. "Alright then." She accepted the bags and watched him disappear into the storage area. Putting the bags into the special cloth purse she carried with the hospital emblem on it, the medi-witch frowned. She talked to Ron earlier that morning when he stopped by to see what she could make of the new pictures. She had to agree that a wizard was most likely around the murders that had plagued the city for months now. There was a rumour, however, that there had been many others in the years since the war and no one had noticed the pattern until now.

Neville immerged from the back room and handed her four boxes. "Here you go." He then gave her the list back. "Is there anything else you need?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, that's fine." She turned towards the door and then paused. "You'll be careful, right?"

Neville nodded. "I am careful."

Ginny pursed her lips and then nodded. "Okay, fair enough. I'll see you later." Then she disappeared through the door.

Neville sighed inwardly. He returned to the catalogue and stared down at it, seeing the words but not reading them.

_"Please don't – I'll do anything – "_

Neville shook his head, trying to clear it.

_"JENSEN! What have you – You monster! Give her back! Give her ba – "_

He shuddered slightly and opened his eyes. It was hard to face it in the daylight. When people were in the shop, it was easy. He didn't think about what happened, he simply focussed on what was going on around him at that moment. Yet, right now, he was all alone and his mind preyed upon him.

He could hear them screaming, begging, pleading. His knees buckled and Neville gripped the counter tightly, gritting his teeth against it all. He wanted to scream, he wanted it to stop, but the images kept flashing and their voices were clear – too clear.

He heard the bell to the shop ring and he instantly snapped into a standing position looking as though everything was perfectly fine. Smiling, he greeted his new customer and was soon caught up in a conversation about the right plants for a potion to get rid of garden weeds.

"You have to stop this." She stood in the kitchenette watching him fix his gloves so they fit just right on his hands. "Neville, this is destroying you."

He pulled at the black leather glove and examined it slightly before looking up to meet her brown eyes. "Pansy, this isn't something I can stop. If I could stop it, it would never have started."

"It shouldn't be like this." Pansy waved a hand through the air. "I should be the one who is out there every night preying on whoever it is you prey on. You," she pointed at him, "should be the one who killed one time and could never do it again."

Neville looked away. "Perhaps." He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at her. "I would stop you know, if I could."

She snorted. "Noble words, but lies." She walked over to him and studied him for the longest while before turning away. "Just don't get caught."

Neville nodded and then apparated away from the flat.

The street was desolate, just a typical neighbourhood street with nothing distinguishable about it. He stood just out of the glow of a streetlamp, using it to see the area around him. He was moving into suburbia now. He would go back to the inner city soon after, but he wanted to lure the police far from his next crime.

He knew Ron and Seamus were on the case or how they would react to him doubling back and killing in a major city. There was always a rather sick curiosity within him to find out how they reacted to his crimes. He wanted to see their faces but knew better. If they saw him, things could get very messy.

He had a cigarette loose in his lips and scoured the streets. It was much too late for anyone to be out. The muggles knew of him and had seen pictures on their news networks about him. Even muggles and wizards in America knew of him, especially after his latest work. He didn't think he should be compared to Jack the Ripper, but it was muggles running the television news networks.

He heard the jingling of a dog tag and took three steps back, now completely out of the range of the streetlamp. His head turned in the direction of the noise and he heard and watched a teenager come up, tugging on the leash of a Jack Russell terrier.

Neville brought his left hand out of his pocket, chanting something under his breath as he swiftly moved behind the teenager.

"Toby, if you – TOBY!" the seventh-year shouted at the wayward rough coated dog. Finally the dog turned so sharply that the teen about faced, looking straight into Neville's eyes. "Oh…ah…I'm sorry about my dog." He pulled at David's lead, telling the dog to behave sharply.

"It's okay," Neville replied. "He is a Jack Russell after all. They're a handful."

The boy nodded. "Did you have one? Everyone I know gives them away after a while."

Neville shook his head. "No, I've never had one." He opened his palm near the dog who was barking incessantly.

"Oh, well they aren't that bad if you know how to handle them," the seventeen-year-old laughed good naturedly. Suddenly he froze before looking down at the limp dog on the end of his lead. "Toby…?" Panic filled his eyes and he went to bend down to examine the stiffening dog when he felt a hand grasp his arm. "Wha – "

Blood splattered onto the sidewalk, a few flecks staining the shoulder of Neville's dark coat. With a gentle shove, Neville watched the boy's body fall backwards onto the ground, a large entry wound spilling blood across his shirt and onto the sidewalk.

Neville stepped back and appraised his work, taking his glove off to wring out the blood before slipping it back on, making sure it fit just right. He looked around the area and then he frowned.

Swearing under his breath, Neville noted the bloodied shoe prints leading from the body to where he stood in the outer rim of the lamplight's reach. He could easily spell them away, but that would leave a trace of his magic, which would easily identify him more than his shoe prints could. He debated apparating since that would definitely indicate that they were now after a wizard.

Frowning, he stuffed his bloodied hand into his pocket and walked down the street, hoping to find a bus stop somewhere to apparate from.

"We found where the tracks end!"

Ron looked up from where he and Seamus were examining the body for traces of magic. It seemed that whatever the murderer was using, however, was some sort of ancient magic that left not trace of the caster. "What is it, Davidson?"

The young man pointed down the street. "It appears that he took a bus, sir." He tried to catch his breath. "The tracks end at the bus stop at Tenth Street and Oak Lane."

Ron rose from his kneeling position, frowning. Looking down at Seamus, he spoke quietly, "I'm going to go look at it. Can you stay here? I'll come back to help you finish."

"I think that I can do the rest, so don't hurry," Seamus replied.

Ron nodded and then looked over at Davidson. "Tenth and Oak?"

"Yes, sir," Davidson affirmed before watching the slightly older wizard disappear. Sighing, he looked over at Seamus. "Can I help?"

Seamus rocked back on his heels and then stood up. "I don't know how." He looked over at Davidson apologetically. "Sorry."

"Can I ask what you're doing then?" Davidson inquired. "If you don't mind…I'm being nosy."

Seamus laughed disarmingly and nodded. "What Ron and I are doing is searching the wound for spells. Once we've identified a spell, we've found a strain of magic that's left on the body." Seamus paused and then added to hopefully illustrate it better, "Think of it like leaving paint splattered on the floor after painting a wall. Only the flecks are very small and easy to overlook if you aren't thinking about them."

Davidson nodded. Seamus could always explain these things best out of the other aurors he knew. It was most likely because he came from a family who lived amongst muggles and had even gone to primary school with them.

Seamus continued, "After we've figured out the spell, we've found the paint fleck of magic you could say." He indicated the body. "That wound was caused by a very old spell designed for a war long before our time. It's made so that the next part is impossible." Seamus sighed. "Usually by isolating the magic used on someone or something, we can identify who cast it. It's like a finger print, however, twins have the same exact magical print, so if we run into that problem, it's going to get very complicated, and the magic evidence usually gets thrown out of court."

"That sounds like fingerprinting," Davidson mused. "Is there any other magic on the body or around here?"

"No, nothing. Now if the wizard had cleaned up his foot prints, we would have who he was from that spell." Seamus sighed. "However, he got on a bus. He's a smart one, which means we have to rethink a few things."

Davidson nodded. "So, what are you going to do now that you at least know he's using ancient magic? Is there anything you can do?"

"As far as I know, I can't do anything at the moment." Seamus put his hands in his pockets. "We might have to bring a special task force from the Ministry down here. I'll have to check with Ron about it though."

Davidson nodded. "What about us? Since it's a wizard, is it the end for our group?"

Seamus shook his head. "Whoever it is, he's been attacking in muggle areas as well as the wizarding areas. He attacks people of all bloods, there is no pattern and no one is sure where he will go next."

They heard a pop and then Ron appeared beside them. Davidson didn't jump, he was starting to get used to wizards popping in and out of the crime scenes.

"How did that go?" Seamus looked to Ron.

"Apparation," Ron replied grimly. "He's a smart one, whoever he is, and if it's a girl, well she's amazingly smart wearing men's shoes."

Seamus nodded. "Have you tested the trace from the apparation?"

Ron shook his head. "Someone is going to do it. That at least will answer the gender question."

"Won't it tell you who it is though?" Davidson suddenly asked. "You know, since it's not ancient magic?"

Ron shook his head. "To trace someone exactly, they need to do a rather average spell. That will get us the wand, which we can take the Olivander's and get the name of the owner from them." He paused and added to clarify, "Olivander's is a wand shop."

"Ah." Davidson looked around. "I should probably report what you said to Commissioner Randall, right?"

Seamus nodded. "Tell him that we can't trace the wizard, but we know that it's definitely one and that we'll know the gender soon."

Davidson nodded and walked over to the leader of muggle operations. After Davidson left, Ron turned to Seamus. "I have a very bad feeling."

"Me too." Seamus sighed. "I think that this won't end well at all."

Once he was in the apartment, Neville spelled his coat clean along with his gloves. Pansy watched him intently. He walked over to the coat tree and hung up his coat by his robe, transferring the gloves into his robe pockets. "What?" he asked irritably as he turned around to look at her.

"If you weren't hiding me, I would leave right now." Pansy held his gaze. "You're turning into a monster."

"I'm not a monster." Neville walked past her into the kitchen, taking a glass out of a cabinet.

"Oh and then what are you?" Pansy followed him over to the sink as he filled the glass with water.

Neville drank from the glass and then looked out the window, thinking. Finally he set it down and said, "I'm just a wizard. That's all."

"He's giving us a bad name, that wizard."

Neville nodded his head as his customer continued with her ranting. "We've gone through great strides to bring muggles to a point in which they at least don't show their fear of us and now this! The aurors should have kept it to themselves!"

"Well, if they did that, they would put our world at risk as well," Neville reasoned as he handed the customer what they needed.

"You're right," the witch sighed, "but that doesn't mean that they should be telling muggles such things!"

"If they tell them, the muggles will trust us more. If they hide it, what's been gained will be lost." Neville spoke rather quickly. He was done with the subject, but was remaining polite.

"Well, I still don't like it. Good day to you, Mr. Longbottom." The witch left as Ron entered the store.

Neville's eyes widened for a minute and then they went back to normal. Ron rarely came into the store. "Hullo, Ron, you look tired."

Ron sighed and groaned. "I am. That crazy murderer is keeping me up until all hours of the night." He looked over at Neville. "I need the ingredients for a locater potion and ingredients for a wortswraith potion."

Neville nodded and began gathering things from the boxes behind him. "I saw that you figured out it's a guy now."

"Yeah, and that's all we know. Minister Chiffon doesn't like that we're telling the muggles so much, but if we don't tell them, I think relations will be worse off than if we do." He accepted the bags.

"I have to get some things out of the back. It won't take too long." Neville indicated the door behind him.

As soon as he ducked into the doorway, Neville took a few deep breaths. Ron didn't seem to notice that something was a bit off, and Neville was glad for that. After taking a moment to collect himself and steel himself so he didn't attract suspicion or concern, he ran a finger over the labels, selecting things from the containers in the climate-controlled room. He double checked what he had and the amounts before returning to the main room. "Here you go."

Ron checked over what Neville handed to him and then he put them in a sack. "Thanks, Nev." He rolled the top of the sack. "Bye."

"Bye." Neville waved and as soon as Ron disappeared he ran a hand down his face. Drawing the hand away, he pursed his lips and began thinking about his next course of action.

"He's gone quiet." Minister Chiffon walked around from the front of his desk to his chair, sitting down and facing the two aurors before him. "What do you make of it?"

Ron and Seamus exchanged looks. Finally the Irishman spoke, "We're thinking that he'll strike again, we just don't know where." The twenty-something shifted his weight. "We've run the tests to try and see if we can get even a small print from the magic trace we collected, but we got nothing and ran out of the sample."

Minister Chiffon's frown deepened. "Finnegan, what is your specialty again?"

"Tracing and locating," Seamus responded. Auror teams were comprised of specialists tailored to fit the needs of the mission.

"Certainly you knew of a way to at least find something out from the spell," Minister Chiffon murmured darkly.

"I thought I did," Seamus replied. "We tried a combination of a few potions, spells – anything I could think of, but nothing got us any closer. The only definitive thing we know now is that our murderer is a man, and that's it."

Minister Chiffon sighed and ran a hand through his thinning white hair. "Any idea where he might strike from next, Weasley? Or when?"

Ron shook his head. "He doesn't have a pattern, although he's getting very far away from the city so I would assume that he would get closer now, if not in the middle of the city." He sighed. "Right now, we don't have the resources to put someone everywhere. There's no possible way of knowing where he will strike next or who. He attacks any type of person, although, he has yet to kill a child."

Minister Chiffon blinked. "Really?"

"That's right." Seamus stared at Ron a moment. "He's attacked women, elderly, men, but no one has been under the age of at least seventeen."

Minister Chiffon leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps we need a child task force to keep him at bay. If we station them around the city…" He shook his head. "What am I thinking? That could be an invitation for him to kill one of them."

"We can't figure out a reason for why he kills either," Ron spoke again. "It's not connected to any religious holidays; the spell that he's been using is so ancient that it isn't even linked to any cult either. He must have read it somewhere."

"I know where. He read it in History," Seamus interrupted Ron's train of thought. "It was a spell used to quell the goblin rebellion and the casters made it untraceable so that the goblins couldn't attack their families or ruin their crops and businesses."

Ron looked over at Seamus and then sighed. "Great. Someone who didn't sleep through History class." Rubbing the bridge of his freckled nose, the youngest Weasley brother opened his eyes again, removing his hand. "Sir, do I have permission to share the major details of this case with someone?"

Minister Chiffon narrowed his eyes. "Who exactly?"

"Her name is Hermione Krum, you know, the girl who helped Harry and me during the war," Ron explained, "only she was Hermione Granger back then – "

"I know who she is now, go on."

"Well, if anyone knew anything in detail about this spell, I'm sure she might." Ron met Minister Chiffon's eyes. "I'm requesting permission to ask her to come out here and help us with this case."

Minister Chiffon eyed Ron and then looked to Seamus. "Finnegan, what do you think?"

Seamus nodded. "I have no complaints."

Minister Chiffon nodded, waving a hand in the air. "You may request her. Dismissed."

Hermione read the letter a third time and then let go of her lip, a little trickle of blood running down her chin. Viktor watched her intently as she re-read it a fourth time before her caramel eyes looked over at him. "It's…" she paused, speaking in Bulgarian, "awful, Viktor. There's a wizard who's murdering people and there's no pattern to it…" She waved the letter in the air in despair a moment. She sighed. "They want me to go out there and help them."

Viktor stood up and walked over to her. "Then you should go. We'll be just fine here. Does it say how long they think you might be gone?"

Hermione handed him the letter and clutched the kitchen counter, staring out the window. Viktor read it over. It was from Ron Weasley, a very tall redhead who always seemed on edge when Viktor was around him. He frowned and then looked over at Hermione who seemed to be lost in her thoughts. "You should go and help them."

"But – " Hermione sighed, flexing her fingers on the counter, before nodding. "I know. I know I should." She let go of the counter and looked up at him. "It's just going to be hard."

Viktor took her hand the smiled. "I believe in you and Milen does too."

Hermione's worry lines appeared and then she nodded. "I'll go gather my things. I'll be staying with Ginny." She slipped out of his grasp, pausing at the door. "I hope I'm not gone too long."

Viktor nodded. "As my parents say, 'You do what you have to do.'"

Hermione looked over and nodded before disappearing to gather the things she thought she would need.

Neville paced, his hands clasped behind his back, eyebrows furrowed. He hadn't been out on the streets for a month and a half, and wasn't sure if he should make an appearance again yet. Wetting his lips, his mind raced through the possibilities of what he could do. He wanted to see blood on his hands again, he wanted to strike again – He _had_ to strike again.

"Will you stop that pacing? You're driving me crazy!"

Neville stopped and looked over at the woman sitting on the sofa. She was reading _The Daily Prophet_.

"Neville, don't tell me you are going out there again." She fixed her gaze on him. "You haven't done it in a month and a half – "

"I can't sit still," he growled slightly and then eased the tone of his voice. "Pansy, this – "

" – can end," Pansy finished for him. "I chose you to hide me because I thought that with you I would be safe. Now I see I might have made a mistake."

"Not that again."

"Yes, 'that' again! You aren't the one living with a mass murderer!"

"I'm the one living with a former Death Eater!"

"That's low!"

"It's the truth." He turned away and eyed his coat on the tree. Straightening, he unclasped his hands. "I'm going."

"Neville – " She stood up and set the paper aside as he walked towards the coat. "Neville, you can't be serious – "

"It's been a month and a half. I know that they're waiting, but I just can't sit here anymore." He slipped his arms through the coat sleeves. "I'm going."

"I'll turn you in – " She spoke clearly. "I – I'll call them and tip them off."

Neville glanced at her. "And give yourself away?"

She bit her lip. "Neville – "

Neville fixed his gloves on his hands, pulling at them so that they fit right. "Pansy, you aren't going to change my mind in this. I've been doing this for six years now. It's not suddenly going to stop because they've started to connect the victims together."

"But – " she said and then closed her mouth when he apparated. Chewing on her lip a moment, she stood frozen before walking over to the coat tree and grabbing up her own coat and leaving the flat.

"Oh my God…" Hermiones' eyes widened as she looked at the pictures. "You think that one person did this…?"

"And more." Ron sighed, running a hand through his red hair as he emptied another file folder in front of her. "These are from old unsolved cases spanning the past six years." He frowned. "The muggle authorities began drawing these files out a couple weeks ago."

"They keep getting worse." Hermione blanched as she examined the progression of the pictures. "Are you even sure this is the same man?"

"No, we're not positive, there's nothing that connects the latter ones either, but why we think that they're all the same man is this." He pointed to several of the pictures. "Whatever happens, they run them through completely from front to back, always from the solar plexus to just above the naval – somewhere in that area. It would be strange to find those kinds of similarities. Not only that, but you can tell by looking at the pictures that it's done with a hand."

"A hand?" Hermione held two pictures up to the light. "You think he does this with his hand?"

"After identifying the spell on his last attack, we're certain that at least most of them are his hand. The spell he used infuses dark magic into your hand. By putting your palm out by the nose and mouth, you will kill them instantly and they will simply drop dead like the dog. However, it can also be used to give your hand enough thrust to run someone through as well."

Hermione winced and put the pictures down. "Who could do these things?"

"That's what we were hoping you could help us figure out," Ron replied.

Pansy stood staring at the building apprehensively. She didn't trust muggles and she didn't like them, but hopefully she could get in and out without too much of a hassle. None of the muggles should know her, so she could easily come and do what she planned to do.

Walking over to the building, she blinked when a one of the officers held the door open for her but she nodded in thanks and stepped further into the building. Coming up to a person behind a desk, she took a deep breath. "I have information you might want."

"What!" Ron stared.

"I'm not lying." Seamus shook his head. "They just sent word."

"But…" Hermione began, "but…Neville…?"

"I'm only repeating what they told me," Seamus murmured darkly. "I don't believe it either. I asked for their source. You won't guess who it was."

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Pansy Parkinson."

He was in downtown London, drifting through the various groups of people going to or from clubs. Hands in his pockets, his blue eyes scanned the crowd. He didn't have to do anything quite yet. He was going to enjoy being outside for the first time in a month. He hadn't stepped out at night to avoid the temptation to kill.

He passed by various people and his brain started to slowly calculate. He usually worked with one person at a time except for once when a person came out of a house to save their lover, which was the only night he had ever been caught killing. There had been a person right before them, but only by twenty minutes.

He looked around at the streets and then ducked into an alley. There were people following him. He could sense it. Apparating, he appeared in Diagon Alley. Walking down it, he stayed to the shadows and small back alleys. After getting to the end of it, he paused and then stepped out into the muggle district, several kilometres away from where he once was. Looking around, he turned a corner tightly, his eyes scanning for prey.

"I think he saw us," Seamus stated as they looked down an empty alleyway.

Hermione frowned and bit on her knuckle. Then she spoke. "We can't let him escape. We can't let him kill again. Where do you think he went?"

Ron shrugged and Seamus put his hands deeper into his coat pockets. "Who knew Neville Longbottom would turn into a criminal mastermind?" He leaned against a brick wall and looked up at the cloudy night sky. "He'll probably go somewhere and then hop to somewhere else far from here. I think he'll stay in the city though."

"So where will he reappear?" Ron sighed.

Hermione looked towards the entrance of the alleyway and then looked at the windows. "We're going to have to do a locator spell. I'll admit that it's not the best option since he will move from that spot, but it will give us an area to go to." She took her wand out and tried to angle her body so no one could really see what she was doing. Whispering the incantation, she watched her wand point off to the North East.

"That's not good." Seamus shook his head. "People don't really go over there if that's where I think it is. He could find someone and no one would know it, or if they came, he would be finished enough to kill the person who discovered him." Seamus looked around and then took out his wand. "We should approach with our wands at ready. I don't want to think that he's the murderer, but better safe than not."

Ron nodded and then the three apparated.

"I know who you are," a weak voice said from behind him.

Neville looked over his shoulder and saw a woman of about forty-two who had her cell phone at ready. He glanced down at the muggle contraption darkly.

"I – I took your picture and sent it – " the woman continued nervously. "If you kill me, it won't matter. I know it's you." She pointed at his hand. "No one's hand glows like that."

Neville looked down at his left hand. He was planning to sneak up on a man just a bit away sleeping on a bench, but this woman would have to go first. Turning slowly, he took a step towards her. "If you think that sending my picture around by camera phone will affect your fate, you're wrong." He watched her cower before him. She wasn't going to run. She was his. "You shouldn't have said anything. You should have kept quiet." He raised his left hand.

"Please – "

He ran his hand through her and then pulled it out, watching her drop to the ground. He stared down at her a moment and then turned towards the bench before freezing as he heard three small pops and three of his former classmates appeared before him.

Before he could fully register it, he was pinned to the ground by Seamus. Neville struggled against the hold and then he lashed out with his hand that wasn't holding the deadly spell, knocking Seamus square in the jaw. The momentum made Seamus loosen his grasp and Neville shoved the Irishman away.

Standing up, he heard Hermione call out a coiling spell and he ducked just in time, watching the ropes ensnare the tree behind him. Turning to look at her, he took his wand out of his pocket and levelled it at her. "_Expelliarmus!_!" Her wand jumped from her hands but before he could catch it, Ron shouted, "_Accio_!" and the wand zoomed towards the Weasley.

Neville watched the wand zoom away from him, his left hand losing its spell as his right hand gripped tighter around his wand. He had to leave. Closing his eyes, he went to apparate and then dropped his wand as someone grabbed him around the neck with a shoelace, choking him. His hands flew to his neck and he tried to grasp the shoelace and pull it off as he heard Seamus shout. "Ron, do something!"

"Right." The tallest of the four nodded and he levelled his wand at Neville. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" He watched as Neville and Seamus fell to the ground. As Ron lowered his wand, Hermione ran over and quickly pried the shoelace away from Neville's throat and with Ron's help, separated the two men.

Standing, she made sure that no one was close to Neville and then she spoke clearly, "_Incarcerous_." She watched ropes shoot out of her wand and coil around Neville, binding him tightly but not too tight. Then she looked over at Seamus, turning her wand to him speaking the counter curse to the petrifying spell.

Seamus blinked and then sat up, looking over at Neville before looking over at the dead woman on the other side of him. Shaking his head, he stood up, speaking in a quiet voice. "Ron, I'll contact the muggles, you and Hermione take Neville to our authorities."

Ron nodded, saying, "_Mobilicorpus_." He looked over at Seamus. "I don't think we can apparate with him like this. Do we have a port key around this area?"

Seamus frowned and looked around before pointing off in a direction. "Over there. It's a stump with a sickle pressed into it."

"Minister, perhaps you should sit down. I can take over the interrogation."

Minister Chiffon glared darkly at the man beside him. "Creevy, I know what I'm doing."

Dennis Creevy swallowed what he wanted to say and nodded. "Of course you do, but – " At the look on the minister's face, Dennis simply closed his mouth and nodded again.

Minister Chiffon turned his raptor gaze to the man tied to the chair in front of him, wards set up so the man couldn't apparate away or free himself. "Now, Mr. Longbottom, I'll ask you again. Why?"

Neville met his eyes and said nothing.

Minister Chiffon gritted his teeth. "Listen," he leaned towards the younger man, "your silence is not helping you. We have concrete proof that you murdered those people. All I want to know is why."

Neville didn't look away or bristle. He simply stared at the minister silently. 

Minister Chiffon stood and then growled. "See if you can get him to talk, Creevy." Then he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Dennis shifted his weight. "Neville, I didn't really know you in school that well, but," he paused and then made a face, "I'm having trouble believing that you did this."

Neville met his eyes and remained silent. He watched Dennis nervously shift his weight again.

"Neville…" Dennis sighed. "Look, if you remain silent, it's going to make this worse for you." He opened his mouth to say something more, but then Minister Chiffon called him out of the room. Looking over his shoulder at the silent criminal, Dennis looked away and stepped through it as two aurors entered the room behind him.

"He won't talk. We did everything we could, but he won't talk," one of the aurors reported to a group gathered in the Ministers office.

"He screams though," the other auror confirmed. "Goddamn does he scream."

"What are we going to do?" Hermione looked at them. She had been here for a week and she was over-ready to go home. She wanted out of this nightmare.

"Put him to trial," Minister Chiffon replied. "It should take much longer than if he would bloody confess though." Gripping his desk, the man gritted his teeth in thought and then waved a hand. "Find him a lawyer."

"Mr. Longbottom, if you don't talk to me, I can't defend you to the best of my ability." A man in his late thirties with thick hair looked across the table at his charge. "Let me defend you, that is what I was called to do." He paused. "I can get you out of the death sentence; maybe even get you ten years instead of life." He watched the young man before him and sighed. "Will you at least say something?"

Neville parted his lips and then spoke in a quiet voice. "The only thing I have to say to you is thank you for trying." Then he fell back into silence.

His lawyer eyed him a moment and then looked away. "You're throwing your life away you know." He didn't even bother to hope for an answer.

"So you've been living with him all this time?" Ron inquired.

"Yes, and look where that finally got me," Pansy replied bitterly from within her jail cell. After the failure of Azkaban, wizard authorities worked together to build a muggle-like prison with heavy wards similar to those at Hogwarts that disallowed apparation and wands were taken away from prisoners and depending on offence, they were either stored away or broken.

Pansy eyed Ron suspiciously. "And what have you come to do, Weasel? Gloat over finally capturing perhaps the last Death Eater left?"

Ron shrugged. "Why did you turn Neville in? You knew you'd wind up in here."

Pansy looked away. "That's none of your business."

Ron watched her and then nodded. "Yeah, but you're going to tell me." He folded his arms and waited. "I know you're a cold-hearted bitch, but somehow you turning him in after six years of this is surprising. I never thought you would turn in a murderer. I'm not even going to ask why you two were living together."

"Good because I told you that none of this is your business," Pansy replied, moving deeper into her cell.

"Well either you tell me or you tell the jury." Ron watched her. "Although I can't promise you won't have to tell them in the end."

Pansy glared at him. "You wouldn't – "

"I'm just saying, you're going to have to appear at trial. That's why I'm here, they wanted me to tell you."

"How lovely," she muttered, averting her eyes. "Just go away."

"N – "

"Please, just go. You'll find out at the trial – just go. Now. Leave."

Ron went to retort and then nodded, turning away from the cell and walking away down the hall.

"This is your last chance, Mr. Longbottom," the judge spoke as he stared at the defendant who had remained silent through his entire trial. "Will you take the stands?"

Neville held the man's gaze and then he shook his head.

"Will you say anything?" The judge paused and receiving no answer, he added, "This is your trial, Mr. Longbottom, aren't you going to at least say something? Are you willing to go without a word?"

Neville pursed his lips a moment and they opened before he closed them and shook his head. He bowed his head as the guilty verdict was read and resigned himself to whatever fate they handed him. From the beginning he knew this was how it would end.

**The End**


End file.
